The shower had done what showers were supposed to do — washed the previous day off her skin, restored some version of ordinary to the morning, returned her to herself after a night that had taken several unexpected turns. Aurora stepped out, wrapped the robe around herself, wound a towel around her hair with the automatic efficiency of someone who had done this ten thousand times, and sat down in front of her mirror.
She looked at her reflection for a moment.
Then she sighed.
